


Roman and Rogers: Private Detective Agency

by CaptainSummerDay



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, P.T.S.D, Past Real World Brainwashing, Private Investigators, Surveilance as a form of dating, Wintershock AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:32:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7454638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSummerDay/pseuds/CaptainSummerDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roman & Rogers are the No. 1 Detective Agency. From exposing cheating spouses to locating kidnapped billionaires, there is no case that Steve and Natasha can’t handle. So when Natasha proposes surveilance training to their receptionist, Darcy jumps at the chance.</p>
<p>Steve feels he should be outraged on his friend’s behalf. He was outraged when he first found out. Having someone spy on a paranoid and traumatised former intelligence asset seems like the worst idea imaginable. But this is the most sociable Bucky’s been for months and he’s actually connecting with the world again and there’s these moments where Steve can see the man Bucky used to be…</p>
<p>If only Natasha wasn’t so damn smug about the whole thing. They’re meant to be detectives, not matchmakers. Too bad Natasha believes in multitasking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roman and Rogers: Private Detective Agency

If anyone had asked Darcy where she saw herself a year after graduating college, sitting on a fire escape in Williamsburg waiting for a guy she’d never met, would not have been her first answer. Or even her slurred response after a night of Margaritas and failed Tinder connections. But still, Lewis women were raised to be adaptable and here she was, the cold of the metal slowly seeping though the fabric of her jeans as she focused her attention on the dark windows of the apartment opposite.

Darcy shifted, trying to combat the numbness that was spreading across her butt as she let out a sigh. So far day two of her first ever stake out was progressing much the same way as day one.

Utterly shit in other words.

This was so not how she’d pictured things when Natasha had approached her desk at the office, fingers drumming against the cardboard file in her hands, and had casually asked if Darcy was interested in getting away from receptionist duties and learning the P.I ropes.

Obviously her answer had been an enthusiastic yes. Or hell yeah, to be totally accurate.

It wasn’t that Darcy had anything against being a receptionist. Although small, Roman and Rogers were one of the most sought after Private Detective Agencies in the whole of New York and successful enough to base themselves out of an office in the Upper West Side. Darcy freaking loved being able to spend her lunch hours sat in Central Park (or wandering around the Museum of Natural History when the weather was bad), and Steve and Natasha were pretty much everything she could ask for in terms of employers.

In truth, Darcy was still a little in shock about getting the job in the first place.

Although after much arguing, emails and meetings with the dean, she’d actually managed to get her degree; the stack of NDAs and red tape that had come attached to it meant that in the real world it was pretty much useless. Jane had been equally unimpressed with the hordes of suited but unnamed officials who had swept through her lab collecting the last five years of her research.

And Darcy’s iPod.

Assholes.

Still, at least Jane had landed herself an adoring fiancé out of the whole mess. One who was royalty no less. (Royally ripped too. Darcy was so proud.) Meanwhile Darcy was struggling to land a job even as a barista while her savings account slowly haemorrhaged cash.

And she was still iPodless.

She’d been down to her last fifty dollars, and on the verge of giving up her big city dreams to return home to Pennsylvania with her tail between her legs, when she’d received the letter inviting her to interview at 1pm the next day for the role of receptionist. Darcy didn’t even remember applying for any receptionist jobs. But desperation had meant she had taken to firing off her CV to every vacant posting she could find on the job sites as she made her discounted ramen noodles stretch over as many days as possible. So she had found herself sat across from two of the most ridiculously good looking and borderline intimidating people in New York as they pretty much offered her the job on the spot.

It had taken all of two days before a serious case of hero worship overtook her natural sarcastic tendencies. Because Steve and Natasha?

Total Badasses.

So yeah, Darcy loved her job. But, when faced with a future answering phones or learning how to also be an utter badass, Darcy hadn’t even needed to think before reaching out and accepting the file Natasha held containing her assignment with gimme hands.

It had sounded so simple too.  Monitor and observe with absolutely zero actual contact. She’d been given a name, an address and even a photo to get her started. Darcy had pulled herself out of bed that first morning at ridiculous o’clock, confident in her ability to observe the shit out of one James Barnes.

Because hello, the guy in the photo? Total swipe right. Darcy would be happy staring at that combination of hotness and sexy smirk forever, let alone the week or so this assignment should take.

Darcy let out another sigh as the darkened apartment opposite continued to show zero signs of life.

Too bad the dude was a freaking hermit.

As her eyes scanned the windows for any movement, Darcy couldn’t help but wonder if this was all just an epic prank by Natasha...

Because she’d passed the stage of thinking he was elusive about four hours back and now wondered if non-existent was a better term.

But fuck it. Prank or no prank, Darcy was going to prove that she could do this.

Darcy Lewis was not a quitter.

Darcy Lewis was going to get her man. Target. Whatever.

After the failure of day one she had returned to her crappy apartment and mentally reviewed her tactics while trying to wash the stench of dumpster juice out of her hair. By the time she’d managed to coax an almost lukewarm dribble from her shower to rinse out her conditioner, she could admit that maybe slightly more research would have been a plan. But hey, if there was one thing she had been able to take away from her time interning with Jane, it was the ability to research like a pro.

Minus an iPod.

Okay. Darcy could admit it was still a sore point for her.

So she’d booted up her old laptop and smacked the screen enough times to stop it flickering out (it had never fully recovered from being hit in that explosion), and got to researching. Several hours later and while Darcy might not have been able to dig up much more info on James Barnes than his age (thirty in two months), she did at least have confirmation of his apartment number.

And a blueprint of the building.

Which was why she was now sat on this fire escape, far away from any dumpster stench, staring at his blueprint confirmed windows.

She had also managed to find this awesome deli on the corner by the subway, so her snacks had upgraded from Twinkies.

Darcy reached into the paper bag by her side and bit into another Gogosi.

Yeah. Serious upgrade.

She glanced back across the street as she licked the vanilla sugar from her fingers.

The apartment was still dark.

Darcy wasn’t concerned.

He had to come home sometime.

When he did, she would be ready.

 

***

 

When they’d asked Steve during the hearings where he saw himself in five years time, running a detective agency with an ex spy had not been his answer. Hell, if they’d pressed he’d probably have gone with dead or in jail. Not that it really mattered. He’d done the right thing. Even if it had involved making a deal with the devil.

It had been strangely sweet of Natasha to insist he take the day off after his return from D.C., and Steve had been exhausted enough from dealing with research vessel grabbing terrorists and the most aptly named one eyed man he’d ever met not to question it. But now he was ready to deal with whatever New York wanted to throw at him. He reached the home of Roman & Rogers at the same time as the mail carrier, cheerfully accepting the pile of envelopes as he made his way to the elevators. The snippets of a song that had been playing on the radio in the gym bounced round his head as he stood at ease, watching the numbers count off to their floor.

He was almost whistling as the smooth chrome doors parted and he saw the elegant swirl of black lettering on the glass of the door at the end of the hallway. Part of him was still a little surprised that he had managed to find a career more rewarding than the army. Then again, he’d signed up to serve and protect his country, and what was a country but its people? He glanced down at the post, wondering how much was just bills as he walked down the corridor. Maybe there might be some new cases or leads too...

Steve froze as he entered the office.

The unusually quiet office.

He could feel the frown forming on his face as he looked up from the stack of mail in his hands and saw the empty desk where Darcy would normally be sitting. The frown deepened as he looked over and saw Natasha, feet on her desk with the ankles elegantly crossed, calmly looking through what seemed to be a stack of photos.

Nonchalant and Natasha were never a good mix.

He cleared his throat.

Natasha discarded the photo she was looking at onto her desk and held up the next one.

Steve fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Where’s Darcy?” He managed.

The photo joined the pile on the desk.

“Training.”

Steve cocked his head in confusion.

“Like a receptionist seminar or something?”

Natasha shrugged as she flipped to the next photo.

“Or something.”

Okay. The small tense knot of unease between his shoulders was rapidly becoming a deep and sadly familiar sensation of suspicion. Steve had worked with Natasha long enough to know nothing good ever came from her being _this_ inscrutable.

His mouth opened, but before his question could pass his lips he felt the insistent buzz of his cell from his back pocket. Another photo joined the growing pile on Natasha’s desk as he pulled out his phone, his thumb freezing above the screen as he saw the name flashing on the display.

Bucky.

Steve almost fumbled in his haste to answer.

“Buck?”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Steve swallowed and forced himself to relax into a smile.

“Hey, it’s good to hear from you, did you-“

He was cut off by a barely audible cough and then,

“You were in D.C.”

Steve managed to hold his smile through force of will alone, aware of the soft snick of another photograph being discarded.

“Yeah. Turns out scientists aren’t big on using their research grants to spring for a protection detail. Got it all sorted in the end though.”

Steve received more silence in response and yeah, he was kicking himself for bringing up the scientist thing and desperately hunting for something to say that wasn’t loaded with a million different potential landmines when Bucky interrupted his spiralling thoughts.

“So it wasn’t about...”

“No! Oh god, no.” Steve sucked in a breath, aware of the proximity of Russian ears and forced himself to relax again. “You’re in the clear, Buck.”

There was a brief noise of disagreement through the phone that made Steve’s hand tighten around the plastic casing.

“I swear to you, Buck. No-one from D.C. is coming after you.”

More silence.

God, Steve wished they could just have this conversation face to face. At least that way he’d have some sort of idea about what Bucky was thinking...

The fact that Steve knew that was precisely the reason why Bucky was calling him shouldn’t still hurt as much as it did.

He sighed and felt the tension slowly start to bleed from his body as the ache took over.

“You okay, Buck?”

He didn’t expect an answer to his softly voiced question, so the awkward cough at the end of the line caught him off guard.

“I thought...nevermind.” Bucky paused and Steve found himself holding his breath as he waited for Bucky to continue. “Your friend still running that group out in Chelsea?”

Steve couldn’t stop the smile that ripped across his face. “Sam, yeah. Starts at eight if you’re interested.”

There was a quiet grunt of acknowledgment before the line went dead. Steve stood, unable to do anything but stare down at his phone as the beginnings of... _hope_ thrummed through his veins.

_Snick._

The sound cut through Steve’s shock and caused him to glance over to where Natasha was pointedly not listening.

Suspicion hit him like a sledgehammer.

“Looks like that went well.” Natasha commented.

Steve felt the remnants of his smile slip as he stared at the redhead. At his silence she glanced up from her photographs and raised an eyebrow at his expression.

“What? Am I not allowed to be supportive now?”

Steve let out a sigh as he walked to his desk and dropped into the chair.

“Just tell me you had nothing to do with that phone call.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and went back to her photographs.

_Snick._

“Natasha.”

“What? How do I know what he said? It’s not like you had the call on speaker.”

_Snick._

The urge to pinch the bridge of his nose was back.

“Natasha.”

“Steven.” She glanced up and cocked an eyebrow at his expression.  “Oh. Are we not just saying each other’s names, now?”

Steve let out another sigh, the feeling of peace he’d had on the way up to the office now evaporated.

Coffee. He needed coffee before trying to deal with his partner.

Steve pushed himself away from his desk as he rose and crossed to the small kitchenette, pausing as his path took him past the vacant reception desk.

He frowned as he stared empty space.

“When did you say Darcy would be back?”

_Snick._

“I didn’t.” _Snick._ “But I don’t see her being gone too much longer.”

Steve felt his hand move to his face.

Coffee. So much coffee right now.

 

***

 

Darcy frowned at the empty bag of pastries beside her. Her ass was reaching Popsicle levels of frozen right now and it seemed like she was all out of snacks to distract from the fire escape induced numbness.

This so better not be one of Natasha’s pranks.

With a growl she glanced back over at darkened apartment in time to see a flare of light spill in briefly before being shut off again.

Holy crap.

Movement!

Darcy fumbled for her phone, managing to get the camera app open in time to snap some shots as James Barnes exited the building.

At least... Darcy was assuming it was him. The whole hobo look he was currently rocking meant he looked nothing like his picture.

She continued to follow him with her camera as he strode down the street, his body hunched into the hoodie and jacket combo he was wearing, a baseball cap yanked low over his head.

Darcy scrambled to her feet as he moved out of view, cursing at way her limbs protested the movement as she all but fell down the fire escape in her haste to follow.

She caught a glimpse of him rounding the corner as she emerged from the alley, but he was gone by the time she got there.

Darcy scanned the area but saw no sign of Barnes.

Crap. She'd lost him.

Darcy let out a sigh as she closed the camera app and fired off a text to Natasha. It seemed like a good time to confirm exactly how long she had to complete her unexpectedly tough assignment. She’d barely hit send before a response came back.

_Debrief at the end of the week. N._

Five more days? Darcy felt a smile tug at her lips as she slid her phone back into her pocket and went to see her new best friend in the deli.

In five days time she was going to know more about James Barnes than his own mother.

But first she totally needed to load up on snacks.

It said something about how much of a shithole her Brighton Beach apartment was that waiting on a fire escape for the return of a hot, hobo hermit was more appealing right now.

He’d be back.

And when he was, Darcy was going to find out everything there was to know about him.


End file.
